What's That Noise?!? by Patrick Deese

Mexico is a noisy place. San Miguel de Allende is no exception. In fact, it may be exceptionally noisy here, even compared to other cities in Mexico.

Street vendors roam the narrow streets each with their own distinct sound. "E.......LO.....TES..." cries the man who sells corn on the cob slathered with mayonnaise and chili powder from a two large plastic buckets balanced on opposite ends of a long wooden pole. The peanut seller, not to be outdone shouts "HAY CA...CA....HUA....TES!", his sales pitch resonating two blocks away. A shrill scale of notes played on a toy flute heralds the arrival of the knife sharpener in the neighborhood.

The garbage men announce their arrival with sound - there is no curbside pickup in San Miguel. They clang on metal bars made from melted down scrap metal. Recycling, Mexican style.

The churches, not wanting to be left out, ring the bells to call the faithful to mass; to announce the hour, the half hour, the quarter hour and to celebrate the feast days of patron Saints. Sometimes, a rogue parishioner manages to climb the walls and rings the bells for no other reason than to announce his drunkenness to the town.

In some neighborhoods, you may hear roosters crowing, chickens clucking, ducks quacking, goats bleating, and pigs snorting. Rooftop dogs announce the comings and goings of the colonia, "Some kid riding a bicycle went past me" says a german ahepherd, his bark answered by a chorus of mini-toy french poodles, "Yes, we saw him too!".

You might hear Mexican country music, cumbia being played at full volume while the laundry is hung to dry on a rooftop. In some colonias, your neighbor might be using his home as a taller automotriz, an auto mechanic, or maybe they are metal smiths, herreros - and make their living beating incandescent iron ingots into wrought iron furniture, gates and window bars. There are no real zoning laws here, or at least none that are enforced.

All public school children participate in the parades that are part of the observation of civic events and holidays. The schools' bandas de guerra practice marching in step as they drum and bugle their way across San Miguel's neighborhoods. The school may even have a corps of dragones, cadets armed with bagpipes, not rifles.

And then there are the fireworks! I purposely left the best for last. In Mexico, everything is celebrated with a loud bang, the louder the better, and the earlier the better. Certain days of the year, better said, certain weeks of the year, you will find that every dawn is greeted with a barrage of rockets, the cohetes loudly proclaiming a Saint's feast day, the completion of new house, a marriage, a birthday, a death, or as part of the numerous Mexican patriotic celebrations that are spread across the calendar: veintiuno de marzo; cinco de mayo; dieciseis de septiembre; veinte de noviembre...

"Why don't the town fathers do something?", one new arrival sputtered indignantly, complaining to me that a barrage of rockets had woken her at 5:30 in the morning. She was shocked to learn that the rockets weren't being set off by juvenile delinquents, no, most likely they were set off by the very "town fathers" that she wanted to file her complaint with.

How does one cope with these minor annoyances? You're in Mexico now. Earplugs, tequila, double glazed windows, an extra pillow to cover your head are all good remedies. But the one that you'll find the most effective is a double helping of humor.

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